


Tired

by 420EdgeLord



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blind Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/420EdgeLord/pseuds/420EdgeLord
Summary: Jack is an old man who's been around for a little too long.





	Tired

**Author's Note:**

> Another try, a little sadder. Also bless by Lord Jeff himself. http://auttoton.tumblr.com/post/167297655733/i-attended-a-panel-at-blizzard-tonight-with-jeff  
> If you make art, be sure to post it on Tumblr with the tag reaper76 tired so we can all find it.

He never thought he'd make it this far.

Soldiers normally don't live for as long as he has. 

They die on the battlefield, or they die not too long after with their gun in their hand.

And he's been around for far too long.

That gun has been in his hands more times than he could count, one single bullet, but every time he would shove it back in it's holster, pick up his rifle, and keep going. There was always a reason to keep going. But now.

Now.

He's just too damn tired.

Out in bumfuck nowhere, leaning something, perched somewhere, the Soldier stared at the sky. He was a hero, once upon a time. He was loved, praised, and admired. He saved lives, and look where it got him, blotting out memories as his time grew shorter. But there are some things he couldn't forget.

His young days on the farm, his mother telling grandiose war stories of his late father, his step dad chiming in every so often. His struggles through a slow-paced school system, his enlistment, and then the government knocking at his door.

SEP was top secret, you couldn't even breathe about it. But Jack couldn't and would never stop singing about Gabriel Reyes, the most beautiful man Jack had ever seen, the fighter from LA who already had scars and was never the one to back down. They stuck together like glue, complementing each other's personalities and fighting styles. From awkward hellos, to hidden hand-holding, to gasping each other's names in dimly lit rooms, nothing could separate them.

Overwatch was a new frontier, a beacon in a world losing hope quickly. Jack wanted Gabe out of it's driver's seat, but never wanted him to replace his love. They saw each other less and less, and whatever interactions became heated fights. The magic was being crushed under expectations and the need to remain silent, something Gabriel never wanted to be.

The explosion took everything from Jack Morrison. His friends, coworkers, his lover, and his life. The Soldier may have limped away, but he left the Poster Boy behind, let him burn in the fires of treason and deceit. 

But now.

It didn't matter now.

With his visor off, he could see nothing. His eyes had failed him not too long ago, but it signaled his approaching end.

Ana was kind and gentle, but he couldn't fall apart around her. She had something to continue fight for, a daughter to protect.

Here, with the gun in his hand. It's was peaceful. The town was silent, everyone asleep with loved ones near, alive and breathing, something Jack certainly took for granted. But Soldier ever had that.

"You're pathetic" a voice growled above him. It was recognizable, but deeper, twisted with pain. The Soldier shrugged.

"Tell me something I don't know" his voice cracked. How long has it been since he said goodbye to Ana? The silence continued as the gun was wriggled out of his hand, his visor slipped into place.

He was too damn tired.

The bone white mask.

Discarded.

His beard had become salt and pepper, his eyes were red, and there were little wisps of smoke from his skin.

But he was the most beautiful man the Soldier had ever seen.

"If you're going to kill me, just get it over with" The beautiful face softened into sadness, sighing. His claws, draped over his knees, the cape gently blowing in the weak wind, an angel or a demon to relieve the Soldier of his life.

"I can't" the man whispered, turning into smoke, "I can't" the darkness moaned as it slithered away.

And the Soldier was alone. 

He shoved his discarded pistol into it's holster, picked up his rifle, and got up. 

Time to keep going.

Who cares if he's tired


End file.
